addicted.

i am offically addicted. addicted to the internet, blogging, and everything else about computers. i dunno why but i just got hooked. im now obssessed to improving this boring blogspot of mine, learn webdesigning, and more. i wanna do tons of things with so little time and a puny brain to house the vast knowledge that there is to learn and master. arrrrgggg!

good thing my dad finally agreed to give me his spare computer. but with that he also told me to ask my LITTLE sis, MaI, to teach me webdesigning so i could save up the effort and money from having to enrol in a computer class. grrrrrHHH! how insulting!

anyways, im hooked. addicted. frantic. hehe... the words dont relate, do they? it's because i am full of so much emotions i dont even know what's what anymore. a while ago, i was in my pablo neruda pensive state and went through all his poems again (well, not all but almost). of course, these poems had me thinking about the past - AGAIN. anyways, i am not going to delve into those memories anymore. its making me tired, sad, and feel uncontented. anyhow, (hehe) ive included two of my favorite poems by Pablo Neruda here, and another one i have gone into liking just now.

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

Thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

--------------------------

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write for example, 'The night is shattered

and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.

I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.

How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear immense night, still more immense without her.

And the verse falls to the soul like dew to a pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.

The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing.

In the distance.My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.

My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.

We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.

My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.

Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.

Love is short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms

my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer

and these the last verses that I write for her.

--- 'tis the last thing he sent me. through email, he ended his pain and faced the new world that was enticingly calling him. now, he belongs to another. and i, to no one but myself. sad. tired. uncontented. these emotions harp on. and i linger.

--------------------------------------------

Love
Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the

perfumes of spring.

I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;

how did your lips feel on mine?

Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,

the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten

your eyes.

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of

you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will

do me irreparable harm.

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.

I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every

window.

Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because

of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting

stars, falling objects.

--- just loved this. makes me remember the latest pang i experienced with the person who is so forgettable, yet so rubric. i hate it.